Standing on a balcony,
we overlook
a sour sea
of flashily clad
human beings—
all plucked
and dyed,
ready to buy
anything
and everything.
They speak
in fluent drivel—
their tongue
primitively
simple.
The mountain of modernity—
scaled by each society,
who, climb after climb,
fail to recognize
its peak,
and stride right off
the mountaintop
with sure,
yet clumsy, feet.
Rise.
Fall.
Repeat.
So it was then,
and so it
will be.
pm poetry 